There's no Greater Sound
by Padua Burke
Summary: Than the Sound of your Boots coming My Way.


Alright everybody, getting straight to the point here, this is my first Supernatural fanfic, and yes, there are OC's in it (the horror). The OC's are sisters, and yes, they meet up with the Winchesters, and now everyone reading this author's note is going to think 'oh no, another fic where Sam and Dean randomly fall in love with a sister pair that are exactly like them!' I do plan for future pairings in this fic, but that will come way later, as I really wanted to make these characters unique, and after watching the show for as long as I have, I know enough about Kripke's main characters to know that they don't just fall for people at the drop of a hat. So, in saying all that, the first chunk of this story is mainly about the Winchesters forming friendship/familial bonds with these women rather than having romance entering the picture. Please give this fic a chance!

-Padua Burke

Disclaimer: I own nothing. With the exception of my OC's.

Happy reading.

P.S.- The last name of my OC's have nothing to do with the film _Constantine_ starring Keanu Reeves. This first chapter is also devoted mainly to giving some background info. on my characters, and so Sam and Dean will make their appearance in later chapters.

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><p><strong>Just an 'L'<strong>

_"Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness."_  
><em>Lamentations 3:22-23<em>

_1986, The Grounds outside Burr House, Sudbury, Suffolk County, England_

If not for the stench, Lavinia would have perhaps thought the scene before her to be almost beautiful. The formless black plumes of countless demons lay up on ahead just above Burr House, and from their collective mass rained down tiny, canary yellow slivers of brimstone. The sun's light was out and about just enough to have these slivers gleam as they floated down serenely upon the tall hunter that marched across the lawn, the pace of her heartbeat anything but serene. She glanced hastily at the watch strapped to her wrist whilst she continued to canter before the house she tried with all her warrior's might not to look at.

"Less than twenty minutes," she thought while swallowing down the panic that one may easily slip into when their mind is wrapped in a thick sheet of sheer terror.

Lavinia was torn from this terror for a moment when she almost lost her footing, but then quickly recovered her strong gait and pushed forward still.

"That's all I need right now," she laughed darkly to herself, "to trip and fall on my ass all the while the demon hoard above would no doubt laugh and presume that it is now acceptable to burn down my home for the third time."

Lavinia was almost now on the path that would lead around the partially burnt house and into the shade of the small forest that lay behind it. There was where she would find the mausoleum that housed the ashes of the two out of three people she loved more than anything in her life, and, no doubt, where her physical remains would be laid in a few days time. That is, of course, if the third member out of her trio of beloved persons wasn't so angry and betrayed by then that her ashes could be housed safely within the tomb before her sister's wrath would drive her to abuse the last existing atoms of the elder sister's being.

Isabel would perhaps be so angry at her that her ashes just may be in danger of being poured down a drainage ditch, or perhaps scattered inelegantly over Helen's mountainous piles of dung. Low, deep laughter issued from Lavinia's long column of a throat, but the sound of it was singed on all sides by hysteria.

There were so many ways a hunter may die, and though Lavinia denied herself the hope that her death would be a quiet, peaceful affair, the one that she was about to experience was less than what she had wanted. Through the duration of her career in putting down the gruesome beasts of both the monster and human variety, Lavinia would envision the nature of her death whilst dealing with both tiresome parties. She had seen herself laid out on the green, plush lawns of her country, looking up at the blue, cloudless sky all the while she would be bleeding out from wounds created by bullets or from some creature's spiked appendage that had met her flesh. Her hair would be splayed as a blacker than black halo around her head and shoulders, her sharp eyes still defiant although she could hardly make them move to see where her adversary stood.

Her weapons would still cling to the hems of her combat suit and coat, dripping from her like liquid silver gems, the crest of her mighty family resting easy on her chest. Lavinia thought herself someone that had finally scraped away the ability to day dream about glorious endings and fighting till one could fight no more, but obviously, as she was but fifteen or so minutes away from her actual ending, she found that she was wrong.

The mausoleum was now within view, looking more imposing than ever as the branches of the trees around it cradled its great structure, its grey coloring contrasting with the green of everywhere. Lavinia noticed the tell-tell glimmer of the brimstone shards scattered amongst every surface, and, if it were possible, the stench of them seemed to make the air she drew in thicker, like she had walked into some humid rainforest.

Yes, her fantasies had been all wrong. She would die in that very grim building before her, her body grinding against hard stone instead of fresh grass. She would have no blue, cloudless sky to admire, her face if anything would be mutilated by the hounds sent to demolish her, ripping the defiance from her features as their masters would no doubt wish for them to do. She would die with the clothes she had on at this moment, simple black trousers, a simple black dress shirt, a simple black blazer, and not her thick combat leathers and boots, prized because they were gifts from fallen friends and scuffed and chafed with the years of brutal, and yet valuable, experience.

Lavinia didn't bother to take any weapons with her to her final destination either; she concluded that no demon would come and take her early, as they wanted the fear and anticipation of what was on the verge of happening to marinate her soul, of which they coveted to be on hell's endless rack of torment.

She finally reached the doors to the tomb, both of them being bare except for the two letter A's that adorned them, their sweeping lines intertwining, representing the bond between the two residents of that place.

Lavinia's terror-stricken thoughts swung suddenly in the direction of Isabel.

She hoped with what little hope she had that when her ashes lay here that her baby sister would take pity on her, push her pain and anger aside for a short time, and order that a letter L be added beneath the two elegant A's. She wanted there to be some reminder, as her reputation as a warrior preceded almost everything else about her when close family wasn't involved, that she had once been a caring, loving woman.

That she hadn't just used her voice to shout orders, but to form just the right words to encourage her husband. That her calloused hands weren't just made to grip the handle of a firearm, but used at one time to play with her infant son's grasping fingers, so as to prevent him from grabbing a lock of hair.

Lavinia gripped the handles of the tomb, but then stopped to check her watch again. "Fuck. Ten minutes." No matter, what she came there to do wouldn't take up five. Her hands squeezed the handles tight as she used them to hoist her despairing body up a little straighter from the way it sagged, and opened the doors only to be greeted by two names carved in stone. She closed the doors behind her and automatically went to the tomb on her left that read 'Arthur'. Lavinia placed a hand on the name and stroked the letters tenderly.

"Well, Sir….."

What could she say to her husband?

"Yes dear, today was like any other, but you see Isabel had her head blown out and so I cleaned up her blood and brains, summoned some low-rent demon to bring her back to life, and so here I am paying the price that is now due."

If he were alive, he would no doubt kill her himself after hearing an announcement like that.

She could hear Arthur's deep, crag-filled voice speaking to her in a low, threatening whisper saying "Well, Lady…..did you think nothing of what Izzi would feel, of what I would feel, of what you're son would feel?"

She would respond, "No Sir, I did not, for but only an hour ago she was just as dead as you and our son, and all I had left was the way _I_ felt."

Her other hand went out to stroke the name 'Acton' that was pressed into the slab on her right.

"Tart….." Lavinia choked hard on the pet name she had given her son, the memory of him gleefully squeezing one of Isabel's well-loved frangipane tarts in his chubby, little fist, taking the chunks of dessert from his high chair's table and smashing them unceremoniously into his mouth came unbidden into her mind's eye. His twinkling green eyes took in his mother as she was laughing, and he laughed his gurgling, baby laugh, the piece of tart he was previously chewing falling out of his toothless mouth, causing her to laugh even harder. "….let your baby thoughts forget about mama. I won't be going to where you and papa are."

Lavinia could hear Acton's heart-breaking wailing echo in her memories, the one Arthur would swear he would only let loose when he realized she wasn't there to soothe him.

She let her head rest exhaustedly on Acton's tomb, her left hand still placed on Arthur's so that she could hold herself up and prevent from falling to the ground and curling into a shivering ball. "I'm sorry," was all she could murmur to her fallen family now.

Lavinia could practically hear the ticking of her time left here on Earth being lopped off on her watch, and so finally, _finally_, she let her thoughts go directly to the one she had given her everything for.

"_Livy, Livy!" said the excited, bell-like voice of the tiny girl beside her. "I was chosen to be the Sugar Plum Fairy this year!" Lavinia laughed with mirth at the sight of Isabel so joyful. "Well done little Plum. You'll be our finest fairy dancer yet!" Little Izzi bounced in happiness at her sister's approval_.

"_Livy," Isabel called softly from the kitchen. Lavinia entered, her eyes curiously falling on a rather battered looking…pie. No, a cake, no pie…a gigantic, chemically enhanced biscuit? Lavinia's questioning glance meet Isabel's expecting one. "Please try a bite and tell me, honestly, how it tastes." The look in Isabel's eyes turned eager and patient as Lavinia took up the fork that lay beside this rather disturbing looking pastry. Lavinia half-expected a crocotta* to explode forth from the dessert when the silverware penetrated its surface, but of course she recalled that the filthy creatures lived in landfills and not in pie-cake-biscuits. She finagled off a bite-sized piece that threatened to wobble off the fork, as it was a slimy hybrid of some sort of fruit and crust and, bravely she might add, thrust it into her mouth. It was perhaps one of the best things she had ever tasted, and she let Izzi know that this was her sincere opinion of her mystery baked good. Isabel blushed in relief; she had truly hoped that Livy would like it despite it's rather less-than appealing appearance. _

_Isabel fired off a shot and nearly hit the target dead-center. "How was it Livy?" __Lavinia wore her proud smile. "Excellent."_

_Isabel worked with careful fingers as she sewed in patterns of black thread flowers around the family crest on Lavinia's combat suit. She would look up from time to time and catch Livy looking upon her work with a delighted expression resting on her sharp features. "I'm nearly finished, I just need to….."_

In the distance came the faint sound of baying.

Lavinia heard no other sound around her or the mausoleum; it was as though every animal had fled from their forest home to make way for these hell-branded beasts.

She could feel herself begin to hyperventilate, but forced her hands to let loose of the tombs' slabs so that she could stand to her full height. Lavinia took one last glance at her watch; a minute and a half at most was left. The baying was now clearer, the harsh tones of unbridled snarling and gnashing accompanying their eager howls for her flesh. The tall hunter forced her limbs to propel her to face the closed double doors, took care that her posture was in no way slumping, and bullied her quivering into ceasing. She was going to die a horrible, undignified death: but she would do it with her warrior's mask firmly in place, her heart beating an easy rhythm, and her well-known expression of arrogance pointed in the direction of her aggressors, although they would be too stupid to be either infuriated or impressed by it.

Twigs and the fallen brush snapped underneath enormous paws.

"…_..place one more cluster here, and you'll be able to wear this uniform within the week."_

Something like the scent of rotting corpses slithered through the haze of sulfur.

_Isabel's bluer than blue eyes widened with admiration as Lavinia strutted in with her newly adjusted suit, the silver threads shining in the light, the flowers about her elder sister's bosom sewed in to look as though they were cushioning the Constantine emblems._

The baying of the hell hounds was now akin to thunder sounding off directly above Lavinia's head.

"_You're so beautiful Livy!"_

Lavinia thought of Izzi's coal black hair, and how it had remained soft to her touch. She remembered as a little girl she would stroke her sister's thin tufts of baby strands when she cried for their mother.

_Lavinia placed a warm kiss on the top of Isabel's head._

Isabel would have no doubt realized by now what she had done.

"_Concentrate any harder on your patchwork dear and you may just give yourself an aneurism." Isabel finally looked up and wrung her hands slightly. "I want it to be perfect!" the younger Constantine exclaimed. Lavinia felt a bittersweet pang in her chest; never had Isabel resembled their mother more than at that moment._

Isabel would have every hunter in their family, as well as all the surrounding families, converge upon this spot, but it would be too late. She would try in vain to console her frantic worry morphing into horror that Livy would never break one of their most important laws, that she would never sell her soul.

Not even for her.

_You're wrong little Plum._

Livy wouldn't be that stupid.

_I would. But only for you._

The doors were thrown open with ferocious energy, and the smell of the hounds so near nearly made Lavinia drop to her knees in mind-numbing revulsion. The sight of the hounds made her freeze; their forms were so gruesome that she could not possibly look away. There were only two, but from their sheer size, they would indeed be enough to take her down.

Their size rivaled that of a small horse, their backs and necks nothing but cords of muscle, each one being exposed as there was no skin or fur. Their muscle was anything but cadaver-like, a slick sheen of God knows what coated them, as well as the general appearance of decomposing. Multiple lesions and boils welled up angrily upon their flesh, healing and bursting all at the same time, making it seem as though they were constantly moving.

Their eyes had no lids, making them but only two pulsing, red orbs jetting out of their heavy heads, their black pupils rolling in and out of their sockets. Their mouths were but jaws bearing teeth that would make a great white back away in submission, all jagged and large. Lavinia nearly vomited when her eyes took in the broad expanse of their built chests.

There was a vague wonder in her mind about what sort of deformity lay upon them when she realized that there was no deformity. In the place of the blisters and cankers that littered the shoulders and legs were human faces, or at least partial profiles.

The hound in the front had what resembled human teeth and a nose sticking out of it, possibly a hand that looked as though it wanted to reach out and be rescued from its disgusting prison.

The hound at the rear bore several tongues along the girth of its neck, a hellish collar of sorts, and in the middle there was a single eye; two ears were just beneath it as well as what she could only assume was a jaw. Lavinia clenched her teeth together tightly so as to stop the flinch that threatened to snap her in half as she swore that single eye blinked.

For all the hounds were in their terrifying visage, they curiously made no move towards the hunter. Their gigantic limbs quivered with a suppressed need to launch themselves at her and rend her to pieces, and yet they made no move to do so. "They must have been ordered not to attack right away," she thought. But why? The demon she made the deal with was practically salivating at the chance to procure her soul; this strange pause between her and the beasts made everything seem all the more damning. What were they waiting for? _What?_ Lavinia half expected a demon to appear before her and divulge the fact that this deal was rather unsatisfying, as she had not weep aloud, nor pissed herself, nor begged the hoard outside above the house for a second chance.

If that's what they wanted, they might as well tell these pups to get on with it.

Lavinia pulled down on the hem of her blazer to straighten it out, cracked the kink twisting in her neck, and said in her calmest tones "Well….come on then." Not a second after she uttered her last words did the hound in the front launch its powerful body at her, its jaws slamming like a bear-trap over Lavinia's throat. All her senses were inflamed by pain as she felt the thick waterfall of blood pour down her chest, the creature coming down fast with her in its mouth, causing her knees to hit the stone floor with a shattering force. The beast held her fast, but surprisingly, it did not rip nor devour her.

"What does it want? For me…..to go…slowly?" came the sluggish thought that floated through her pain. The hound shook her limp form ever so slightly, and if she could scream she would have; she couldn't breathe. Beneath her hand that lay on the ground she felt the stick of her own blood, and of more pooling in her mouth.

Her vision was slowly beginning to blur, and as she moved her eyes this way and that for the last time.

….._Wha?_

A minute or two more of bleeding out would have caused her to miss the large figure that now stood within her line of sight. The part of her brain that could still think supposed that this was the demon master of these hounds, ordering his pets to not grant her the favor of a quick death, but as she looked at him…no, no something was off.

Or perhaps this was a hallucination.

It was a man with dark, blonde hair trimmed into a military cut, bottle green eyes, and...good Lord he had the face of a woman. That face of his looked in as much pain as she felt. His shoulders were quaking, his expression changing from pained to devastated.

_Who….._and just like that the hound that had grabbed a hold of her snapped her neck, barely having to shift his jaws as it killed her.

…_is that man?_

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><p><em>1954, Burr House<em>

Julius was brought back to the waking world by the piercing scream of his wife.

The sound was followed by another of which he hated even more than the former: his infant daughter's terrified wailing. Before he was even fully awake, he snatched up the gun that lay under his pillow and drove his step hard into little Isabel's nursery that was right next to he and his wife's master bedroom.

He was in the nursery for only about a half a second before he was slammed into the wall next to the entrance so hard that a rib was broken. He was now fully awake, gasping for air and cringing as he did so, for it made the pain in his side flair, his gaze turning vicious upon the intruder that stood before him. The demon's yellow gaze cut through the shadows, a look of both glee and disappointment keeping residence there.

"Julius….I had hoped that you would have put up a better fight than this," yellow eyes hissed with a sort of savage happiness at the hunter. "Especially when you're house of little women are on the line."

Julius's eyes swept the room frantically for any sign of Romala, and hoped against the dread building in his stomach that she had somehow escaped this demon's grasp and retrieved Lavinia.

If they were both still alive that is.

He crushed that train of thought immediately; thinking of his wife being dead was horrible enough, but the thought alone of one of his daughters being lifeless…..Isabel's upset whimpering brought him back to where he was. The demon smiled at Julius as though he had recited an amusing joke, and then, causing the fire in the hunter's blood to rush in a wrathful manner, gently reached out and squeezed the baby girl's tiny foot in mock tenderness, as though he meant to play with her as Romala or Livy would. Isabel cried in earnest now, her little face scrunched up in confusion as to why her papa, mama, or sister would not make this cold stranger leave her alone.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HER YOU FILTHY BOTTOMFEEDER!", came Julius's roar all the while he lunged like a wild animal against his invisible restraints.

When the first droplet of blood hit the small expanse of his daughter's forehead he froze.

"Where, what…?", Julius thought stupidly until those yellow eyes seated within the darkness fixed him with a look that one would have when observing the town idiot. The demon looked at him pointedly, and then with deliberate slowness his eyes shifted from him to the ceiling.

Julius could swear that he had become ice all the way down to his soul, he was so horrified.

Fixed over Isabel's crib like he was to the wall was the form of his small wife, her blue eyes hazed over in her pale face, her limbs both pinned and sprawling, a long laceration bleeding out slowly from her abdomen. Her pristine night gown was soiled in red, and she hovered above them like a sullied, gory angel.

Isabel cried harder as the warm fluid hit her square between the eyes.

Before Julius could shout out what he would do to yellow eyes when he was unpinned, before the demon could laugh at the pain the hunter felt, before anyone could blink really, a small figure flew right past the both of them, scooped up the howling bundle from her crib, and ran back to the door. The demon's sulfur hued orbs looked on at the little girl who zipped just beneath his nose a moment ago. His smile stretched up his face wildly.

With the snap of his fingers flames exploded all around her mother, of whom she did not notice was on the ceiling until she was lit up. "Mama!", Lavinia cried from where she stood, holding Isabel as close as she could in an attempt to protect her. "Papa!"

"RUN LIVY, RUN!", came her father's thunderous command. And like a shot she was off and down the stairs.

The demon looked unconcerned, his gaze returning with ease to the burning woman above. "Beautiful isn't it?" And with another snap of his fingers, flames licked and leaped up Julius's body, eating away at his bear flesh. He tried with all his strength to break free once more, but then willed himself to be still as he accepted that there was no way possible to save himself or his wife. With his last coherent thoughts, Julius threw heavenwards a frantic prayer that he and Romala would die quickly, and that some way, somehow, if the Lord truly be merciful, that he would protect his little girls, and that the rest of his family would find them before the demons outside (for there was never just one) did.

Azazel watched with pleasure as the couple slowly died under the ministrations of his fire. He would have his children collect the whelps once they were outside.

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><p><em>The Grounds outside Burr House<em>

Livy was so frightened that the moment she managed to crawl out of the small, flapped entrance that was made for their dog in the kitchen, with little Izzi in tow, she ran blindly forward, not bothering to see how the house's second floor was being consumed in flames.

She ran and ran and ran; Papa told her to, and so she would do exactly that.

She ran, despite her little sister whimpering and squealing at being jostled so much.

She ran, and so never stopped to look up and witness the multitude of demons swarming above.

She ran because she knew that Papa would save Mama from the monster, and then he would find her and Izzi and they would all go to Uncle William's.

All she had to do was hurry to find a good hiding spot and then wait.

Her little legs were tired, and her small arms ached from having to keep her sister elevated off the ground. But she would keep on running until she found their hiding spot. Because Papa told her to. Because Mama told her that Papa was a great warrior that never lost. He would find them. But then a terrible thought struck Lavinia's childish hopes.

What if Papa wasn't strong enough to defeat the monster? What if she ran and ran and ran and no one ever found her and Izzi? What if he couldn't save Mama? Mama…..that was the answer! Mama had always told her, in addition to when she said her prayers in thanking God, that if she was ever in any trouble she should also ask the Lord for his help. Mama spoke of the Almighty Father with great reverence, and mentioned that he could help anyone out of, or with, anything. "Remember Livy," she would instruct her elder daughter, "the Lord loves all his creations, and hears every single prayer, but the prayers of children such as yourself are dearer to Him because little ones are more innocent and sincere."

Yes, that was it!

Lavinia rushed beneath the shade of a giant tree and was cloaked in nearly complete blackness; she got on her knees, as well as settled her sister on her lap to calm her, and then closed her eyes and prayed with all her might. She prayed that Mama and Papa would be safe. That Izzi and herself would be safe. She prayed that they would all be together again and happy.

She prayed and prayed and prayed.

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><p><em>2006, The Front Lawn of Chilton House, In the civil parish of Chilton, Sudbury, England<em>

This was a complete waste of time.

Isabel, under most circumstances, would try to be as calm and positive as was possible, but right now she was tired, hungry, and had rain literally pouring into her combat leathers. She eyed Livy, who was right in the middle of the semi-circle that she herself, Carter, and Janice were situated in on the lawn before Chilton House.

While the rest of their lot was frowning up at the sky, trying desperately to shield their weapons beneath their coats from the water, Livy looked as though she were an ocean's length away from England. "No doubt absorbed by the idea of finding Azazel the moment we land on American soil", thought Isabel whilst observing her sister's faithful mimicry of a statue.

"So…is it going to show its face or not?"

Ah yes. On top of being completely exhausted, drenched, and stressed over the last of the paperwork she had to finish, Isabel was set with the task of keeping watch over the young Cullen Hamilton.

The annoying, insubordinate, spoiled, whining, fat-little-weasel Cullen Hamilton.

Usually the younger Constantine sister was not the one to harbor such uncharitable thoughts towards anyone, but, as she discovered, the Hamilton boy would grate a saint's nerves. For a duration of almost a year, his mother, of whom, unfortunately, was one of the more powerful figures of her family, had constantly sought out the company of their uncle William, either by constant appointments made or at every social function.

Her husband was a very respected hunter while he lived, earning even Livy's regard (which for any hunter of any family was a monumental feat in itself), and so the lady was bound and determined to have at least one of her three sons carry on his hunting legacy. Cullen was her second-born boy, and as her first son had the aim of a disoriented toddler, and so couldn't shoot to save anyone's life, the Madame Hamilton would of course try again.

To be a hunter amongst the five main families was already a status symbol in a half, but to be a Constantine hunter was to be revered. But in order to be a Constantine hunter, one must be willing to undergo such grueling trials and initiations and earn their passage there. As well as attaining Lavinia and Isabel's seal of approval, of which many a training hunter trying to break into their inner circle has prayed for during mass.

Isabel knew for a fact that the boy beside her did neither work, earn, nor pray for his chance to be amongst them. The Madame Hamilton had been constantly pestering William because he was the only other person besides Livy that had the power to place certain people in certain positions. That is, the power to place any hunter in any grouping they wanted, and she would not only have at least one of her sons be a hunter, but be placed within the Constantine circle as well.

Or so she thought.

Lavinia had given her a blunt 'no' on requesting (more like arrogantly demanding) that Cullen be placed with them, but in the end William would have the final word. He told Lavinia to humor the lady (his polite way of saying no), so long as it got her out of his hair for a while. And so the elder Constantine embarked in finding the most non-lethal mission to chaperone him on.

The mission involved tending to the residents of Chilton House; the tenants who lived there had a daughter die a day or two ago, and were waiting for preparations to get underway in the burning of her corpse.

The poor couple, several hours after the death of their girl, came home to find her spirit lingering on the house's second floor. The spirit had asked if she was in fact truly dead, and after receiving a 'yes', begged her parents to not tell anyone so that she could stay on the grounds and in the house. They mournfully in turn told their daughter that she couldn't stay, and that her remains were set to be burned in a day or so, and that what was going to happen was for the best, as they did not want her ghost to become a corrupted, lurking thing in staying on the Earth for too long.

Evidently by them being there by request, the girl's grieving spirit, in the loss of her own life, didn't take it very well.

She began to cause trouble within the house and, to an extent, on the property around it. All the windows at Chilton were smashed, several rare and expensive works of art that the place housed were desecrated, the grand piano was pushed down the staircase, and all the chandeliers had been torn from the ceilings of both stories.

Although the spirit had gained an appetite for the destruction of property, she had luckily not gained the desire to kill anyone, nor burn anything. Most of her rampages took place when no one was home, and so her parents were fortunately left unscathed.

This mission would be as dull and unnecessary as required to keep Cullen Hamilton safe from himself: but damn it all to hell, if this boy did not shut his trap, Isabel would take it upon herself to relieve him of his iron rod and lodge it up his ass, and then later inform his mother that Chilton's phantom was the aggressor that assaulted her precious little darling.

"So? Is it coming?" repeated Cullen.

"If we're lucky Hamilton she won't come at all. Her spirit will be laid to rest soon, and I would very much like her to leave this world without an altercation of some sort," Isabel replied.

"Pffft. That coward should show her face! We can take her!" Carter and Janice could barely contain their sneers at his assumption that he was one of them.

Livy continued to stare on in the distance as though she could hear nothing.

A full, precious minute of silence passed before the Hamilton boy took it upon himself to try and goad the spirit out of her hiding place.

"Come on! I know you're out there! Come out and fight us!", shouted Cullen.

"Shut up," Janice and Carter ordered in unison. Their order went ignored.

"I bet I could take you on myself! That's why you resort to destroying pianos and paintings! Because you're such a cowardly….." Isabel felt the waft of cold air wrap itself around them before the spirit appeared before Cullen, baring her teeth like an animal in his face and roughly pushing him to the ground. Not even half a second had passed before she flickered out of sight did he start screaming in mortal terror.

For a boy so hefty, it was somewhat of a surprise to see him leap up with the quickness of a startled cat, but the moment he was up he haphazardly swung his iron rod back and forth, still screaming his head off in fear of the 'cowardly' ghost.

"All right, I've had enough of your ridiculousness," announced Janice. "Hand me your rod before you hurt anyb…." In Janice's annoyance she had stalked on over to where Cullen was idiotically swiping at the air, but came over to him a bit to quickly and was belted hard in the face.

"How dare you?", she yelled as she cradled the cheek that was split open by the rod's sharp point at the end.

"Just you wait until I get my hands on you, you duck-fucking, shit-eating, block-headed, mole-eyed, fat son of a….." Carter came up fast to Cullen, whizzing past Janice and her multiple spoken vulgarities, grabbed hold of his rod in mid swing, and slammed his fist into his face hard enough to knock him unconscious.

Isabel rubbed her eyes in irritation, then sloshed on over to see if Cullen was still alive.

"There are several ways to incapacitate a person Carter; it wasn't necessary to nearly break his face in," she scolded as she checked Cullen's breathing, and felt for anything broken in his pudgy face. Isabel heard Lavinia quietly inquire Janice if she was alright, of which she affirmed that she was, though her cheeks burned from embarrassment that her mentor witnessed her being marred by someone who was several marks beneath an amateur.

"I agree with both your points Izzi; but all the other options for rendering him motionless would not have been so enjoyable," Carter answered with a wicked grin.

Isabel gritted her teeth together to keep herself from admitting aloud that he was an idiot; satisfied that nothing was broken and that Cullen was breathing normally, she stood up from her crouch.

"Nothing is broken, but there will be some rather colorful bruising and swelling by morning."

"Good," Janice chimed uncharitably.

"Carter. Bring Hamilton to the house and make sure he gets something cool for his face, then call someone over to collect him."

Carter jumped slightly at the sound of Lavinia's order, as this was the most she had uttered since early evening, but then obliged her, his wicked grin turning sheepish at the reprimanding tone in his leader's voice. He then tossed the boy over his shoulder, taking care to treat him gently this time, and made his way towards Chilton's front door.

"Do try not to drop him," added Lavinia, but there were the slight undertones of chuckling in her voice, as though to say "Drop him in the mud or the ocean for all I care." Carter caught the humor within her last order, causing him to pause slightly to give Livy his wicked grin returned. The corners of her mouth ticked up slightly in amusement.

"Everyone to Burr House! I have an announcement to make. Be sure to catch up to us quickly Carter once you are done with your errand."

* * *

><p><em>Burr House<em>

Lavinia trained her eyes on her sister while she sat at the fore-front of their dining room table.

Isabel flurried about, making sure the heater was turned up, ordering their people to remove their damp coats, and then ushering them into the dining room, only to flit out and to the kitchen to prepare tea and pull out left-overs. She saw a small happiness bloom in her sister at the lot of them being together, and of everyone's liveliness, though it be late at night, but Lavinia didn't miss how she yawned delicately into her sleeve every minute or so. She quietly decreed to the company at her table that at least two of them should get up and help the younger Constantine.

Janice motioned for another to follow her to the kitchen, but then the both of them were effectively shooed away once they reached it, and were counter-ordered to sit down and relax. The gazes of the two Constantines met.

"I'll be alright," were the words held within Isabel's blue orbs.

"Are you sure?" was the question held in Lavinia's green.

Isabel bobbed her head once to affirm Lavinia's question, smiling warmly at the intimacy of their unspoken language. A small smile graced Livy's sharp profile as she witnessed her sister's reassurance, and so waited for everyone to be served their evening meal before she began her announcement.

"What on earth is Carter doing that is taking him so long to get here?"

"He is calling someone to bring the young Hamilton back home," called Isabel from the kitchen, her voice weighed down with disapproval at his decision to clock the boy in the face earlier.

"And how did the boy do?"

"Disastrous," Janice replied bluntly. It was at that moment Carter stepped in and moved to take his seat at the table. He tenderly ran his thumb over Janice's now bandaged cheek and addressed Lavinia.

"Now Livy, what was it that you wanted to tell us?"

"All of you warm up and eat and drink first, then I will tell you." Izzi came out with two trays balanced in her arms with food items that smelled wonderful, and so they all happily complied with Livy's order.

"Izzi, at least let us help you in serving the tea!"

"No, no. All of you enjoy yourselves and don't worry about little old me."

Isabel scurried back to the kitchen before anyone could say thank you, removing the boiling water from the stove and commencing in pouring it into their tea-pot. Tea was served, and in the intermit of time that passed when Isabel poured everyone a generous cup full, Lavinia closed her eyes in concentration, thinking about her plans for their trip to America and of getting her hands on Azazel.

Azazel.

Lavinia's face hardened so swiftly at the thought of the demon that the hunters at the table that happened to catch the transformation on their mistress's face quieted almost instantly, not wanting the volume of their talk to irritate her further. She snapped out of her vengeful haze when she heard a plate and cup clink against the table when being set before her. Isabel had procured for her a thick slice of bread with a perfect square of butter lying on top, a butter knife, and a steaming cup of tea.

Before Isabel took her leave, Lavinia couldn't help but catch the look of worry tinting her sister's brow as she took in her plate of but one bread slice, while the rest of their company had plate-loads of supper before them. Sadly, the younger knew that her elder sibling would not want much, but it still made her pout a little in concern for the other's overall health.

Isabel prepared once more to fly into the kitchen and retrieve anything else that anyone might need when a strong grip arrested her hand. Surprised, Izzi looked down and saw Livy look at her tiredly and apologetically.

Lavinia gave a quick peck to the back of her hand, brought the hand to rest it on her forehead momentarily, and then looked up once more. "Go to bed, love. Everything that I am about to tell them you already know."

"Yes, but…"

"You're about to fall over with how tired you are." Isabel couldn't deny that. She took one last glance at the group before them, making sure in her mind that they were all well taken care of.

She broke the grip Lavinia had on her hand and moved in to drop a warm kiss on the crown of her head, and stroked the glossy, black strands that began there. "Night, night dear."

"Goodnight love." And with that she was off to her room on the second floor.

"Let's get on with it," thought Livy to herself. The hunter stood at her full 6'1, and with that everyone in the room went silent.

"You are all aware that by this time next week I will be in America." All nodded in unison. "Isabel will be coming with me. But the lot of you will stay in England." The protest was nearly immediate. "Lavinia, you can't be serious!"

"Just you and Izzi? That is not wise nor safe!"

"We need to be there to have your back! Facing down the multitude of demons migrating to America on your own would be suicide!"

"I think…."

"I've already made up my mind," said Livy loudly. "I have made my plans for how to work the American terrain, and William has granted me his approval. It is done." An older hunter that was seated near Lavinia, of whom was named James, and yet all called Jim, still questioned her. "But Livy…..why are you going to America with just Izzi in tow? Every other time you've sought out Azazel you had your hunters come with you without fail." Everyone nodded at the fact.

"And that's exactly why I think Azazel has slipped past me every time," she now said with a growing degree of frustration. "I went in too big, too willing to show off our artillery. Our numbers drew attention, and so Azazel's hoard were able to warn him of our coming before we reached whatever hole he was hiding in! No. No, this time I go in with only my sister, and pray to God Almighty that we can slip past their radar long enough to gut their leader before he comes to gut me."

"And you do have a plan as to how you're going to do all this?", Janice said both defiantly and skeptically. Lavinia smiled her viscous, hungry smile in response.

"Yes Janice. You all can be well assured that I _always_ have a plan."

* * *

><p><em>The Office of First Hunter, The Constantine Compound, Sudbury, Suffolk County, England<em>

Lavinia's mind noted that Isabel had slipped into her office as the Madame Hamilton continued to squawk at her angrily.

"You have no control over your people Constantine! How could you let that beast injure my baby? Right in front of you too, how shameful!"

Lavinia chose to give her attention to the two photographs atop her many papers; the first bore a 'D' at the bottom to indicate a Dean Winchester. The second had an 'S', indicating a Samuel Winchester. They were brothers, were born in the flat state of Kansas, and looked nothing alike. They both did have green eyes, but this Samuel's looked more hazel than his sibling's.

She vaguely realized that Hamilton was still talking. "My poor boy! He was only trying to defend himself, and you and your band of savages punished him for it!"

Lavinia's brow twitched ever so slightly at the lady's pronouncement that her hunters were 'savages', but then reminded herself that she was dealing with a person who was quite beneath her, and that her opinions should not be taken seriously. Goodness, this Samuel's hair was a goddamned rat's nest.

"If you could have only seen his face when he awoke this morning, you yourself Constantine would be humbled by his pain," the woman declared, tears gathering in her beady, little eyes. Lavinia saw Isabel lift her head from the sewing she had started in her peripheral, and witnessed her fix Hamilton with the driest of looks. It seemed to say "Woman, you know nothing of my sister, or the way her 'humility' works." Isabel went back to her sewing, and so Lavinia continued her critique on the photographs of the two men before her. She didn't notice it before, but this Dean had freckles.

"I swear Constantine…"

She felt that these two men would be the key to finding Azazel.

"I would like a word with that Carter of yours…"

At long last, vengeance would be hers.

"You have no idea….."

She just had to search a little longer; these Winchesters would help her.

"As the Lord is my witness…"

Whether they liked it or not.

"You Constantines have always thought yourselves better than us Hamiltons…."

When this woman spoke, the constant opening and closing of her mouth made the folds of fat clinging to her face jiggle.

"We are just as good as you are, perhaps even…." Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle.

The Madame Hamilton was like a gigantic cube of jello, only not as symmetrical. She made her son Cullen look like a thin paper waft. "Just so long as you know…."

"Stop wasting your breath madam. Your voice is giving me a headache, and your constant jiggling has placed me under duress." Lavinia had never seen someone go so red in the face with rage.

Isabel tittered in the chair she had placed herself in, whether from reigning in a reprimand for Livy's non-existent respect for good manners, or from giving in to an explosive bout of laughter; it really could be either.

"You…you…how _dare_ you Constantine," seethed the large woman who had now stood up from her seat.

"I'm surprised that chair did not buckle underneath the immense strain," Lavinia replied, her green bergs weighed down with a look of complete boredom. Isabel's head was now bent so low over her work that her dark tresses blocked her face. Her shoulders were quivering; if things continued as they were now, she would tell manners to be damned and give in to the laughter.

"Just you wait until Henry hears of this!"

"Henry does not care about you, or your opinion of me." The woman sputtered momentarily, but then continued. "He is my nephew!"

"Yes. And he is my lawyer. He can tolerate me because I pay him handsomely. If you want him to care for your squabbles, then I suggest you start paying him as well. Get out."

The Madame Hamilton took care to glare venomously at Lavinia for the last time before taking her leave to waddle out of the office. "Blessed silence," thought Livy, although she felt her calm mood rumple slightly at how that whale slammed her office door.

Both sisters worked in companionable quietness for around ten minutes until Isabel announced casually "You know..I believe I'm beginning to age." This caused Livy to peer at her curiously. Her sister's form was now composed instead of bent over in suppressed laughter, allowing the elder to observe her profile.

Her hair had not one strand of gray in it, her locks darker than midnight with a coat of gloss. Her face was unblemished alabaster, not one line or wrinkle in sight, youthful and pristine as it had been for the last thirty years. "Nonsense. You do know that grandmother didn't begin to actively age until her upper seventies."

"True. But grandmother was more of the Blood than we."

"Where is Henry? He said he would be here about this time, and he is not."

"Probably being rudely accosted by his aunt."

It was at that moment that the office door opened once again to reveal the man they spoke of. "I was just violently accosted by my aunt out front, thus the delay. What the devil did you say to her Livy?" Lavinia didn't bother to look up at him in greeting as he addressed the question to her. "What makes you think I said something?"

"She only cries and screams when someone tells her the truth about how pathetic she is, of which you are the only one who will, besides myself."

"Did you send me the footage from Singer's Salvage and the Roadhouse?" In response he merely turned on her computer monitor and waited for the screen to come up. "Here is the current footage from both places. Nothing interesting out of the Winchesters, nor was there any demonic activity, but there was one incident."

"What incident?"

"Oh nothing suspicious or of the supernatural variety. But we did find that the Harvelles have another person living with them there. An 'Ash', as he calls himself."

He found the footage of the supposed 'incident' and clicked play.

The camera had observed a dark and empty saloon one moment, and then in the next the device was forcibly being ripped from the wall it was situated in by an unseen figure. The camera had still been in tact at this point, as it happened to record its mysterious journey from the saloon portion of the building to a back room; a door could be heard slamming shut in the background. Suddenly, making everyone in the room jump slightly, music blared from the footage, and the camera was positioned to reveal a man clad in nothing but his briefs, some sort of tribal war paint smeared across his face, and his head adorned with a Native American, multi-feathered headdress that was illuminated by the passing lights of a disco ball.

"All right all you fuckin demon putos and putas watching this! I don't know why exactly you have cameras in this joint, but I sure as hell will fuckin find out, so SUCK THIS!", he exclaimed before forcibly grabbing his balls.

"I'm DR. BADASS you hear! BAD-TO-THE-ASS!", he crooned at the device, and then left momentarily only to come back with what looked like a worn sledge-hammer. "I'll be seeing you folks later now," and with a maniac's grin he commenced in smashing their camera into God knows how many pieces.

Isabel, during this 'Ash's' tirade, had gotten up from her chair and was now peering over Lavinia's shoulder; both women were still for a moment before the elder inquired, "Is this man a hunter?"

"No. But from what we've gathered he's a respected figure amongst the hunters that frequent the Roadhouse. A 'genius' they call him; supposedly he has built his own lab top and has it programmed to use satellites to track down demons, albeit a crude version of our tracking devices."

Lavinia raised her eyebrows at this. "Perhaps we should offer him a position amongst us as we will the Winchesters?", thought Isabel aloud.

"If these Winchester brothers prove to be as delightful as this 'Ash' fellow, I'll opt for taking them hostage and using them as bait for Azazel rather than give them a job." Isabel walked back to her chair to gather her things, but not before scolding her sister.

"Livy. You did promise me that you would try and be diplomatic with these gentlemen despite your festering impatience. Do not go back on that promise; you already talk of imprisoning them and we haven't even landed on American soil yet!"

"Alright, alright, calm yourself. I will try and be _diplomatic_," Lavinia replied, the "tic" of the last word coming out harshly, as though she meant to spit out something nasty. Henry could be heard chuckling as he was about to take his leave with the younger Constantine. "It is to my knowledge, Livy, that you had left diplomacy in a box on some deserted highway some years ago."

Both sisters looked on him with exasperation.

Lavinia's jibe for Henry was on the tip of her tongue when Isabel proceeded to scold the both of them.

"Enough! What are the both of you? Children? No. Henry, you will escort me to your mother's house before I leave for more packing at my own; I wish to give your mother a farewell for the time being. And you," she said while jabbing an authoritative finger at the woman still at her desk. "I want you to be home in an hour or so. I am making you dinner and I expect it to be eaten; I will not have you fatigued in any way for our journey."

And with that the little tyrant showed herself out of the office, bidding Henry to follow her. Alone for now, Lavinia allowed the corners of her mouth to up tic in amusement at the way Isabel huffed out orders, when something on her monitor caught her eye. She moved closer to the screen; the footage running now was what was recording this moment in America at Singer's Salvage. Lavinia had a view into the yard filled with nothing but cars piled all over and atop one another.

Amongst the ruined vehicles walked what appeared to be a middle aged man, mid-height with messy hair and scruff; he was close enough to the camera that Lavinia could see his face. Another hunter acquaintance of the Mr. Singer? The theory was obliterated the very second his eyes flashed a demonic black.

Lavinia froze, as though the demon were actually in the room with her, but then ordered herself to relax and analyze what was happening. The demon didn't seem to be armed; he wore no jacket, nor had pockets that could accommodate a weapon, but then again most of their kind had a thing for pushing and shoving in the old fashioned, telekinetic way. She wondered if he was there to spy on the Winchesters. Lavinia picked up the phone and called the Surveillance Chamber on the other side of the compound. "Are you watching this David?"

"Yes madam."

"Dial in Mr. Singer's home phone, then connect me to him."

"Yes madam." The ringing on the other side of the line seemed to trill on forever until a gruff , cautious voice cut through. "Who's calling?"

"Mr. Singer. There is a demon within the confines of your yard. It may possibly have reinforcements. I suggest you get rid of it."

"Who is th….." Lavinia hung up before he could continue.

* * *

><p><em>On the road to Burr House, a mile or two out<em>

Lavinia was relieved when she saw Maurice out on the road. She stopped the car and rolled down the window.

"Good evening," she called to him politely.

"Evening Livy," he replied with a gap toothed grin.

Maurice was the housekeeper of Burr House ever since her parents had moved in there before her birth. He was ancient, but still able to move about and perform his duties, not to mention having accumulated the most organized staff out of any of the family's house properties in England. "Could you take the car in Maurice? I wish to walk the rest of the way."

"Certainly," was his only reply as they moved to switch places.

Once secured in the vehicle, Maurice drove off without bothering to say goodbye to his mistress. He knew she had too much on her mind to engage in small talk.

And that she did.

The evening air was cool, but not bitingly so, and the setting sun made the clouds above reflect creamy pinks and oranges with an undertone of lavender. Lavinia took a moment to take in the beauty of the scene, as well as to breathe in the fresh air, but her legs seemed to make the decision to start walking without her. She turned away from the early evening's beauty to attend to some rather pressing thoughts.

Like the Winchester brothers for example.

It all began around four months ago, when Azazel's patterns of destruction had become noticeable once more in North America. Azazel had not shown his face on that continent since the 1980's, and so of course Lavinia was on top of this new development faster than a bird of prey on a rotting carcass. She had meant to leave for America immediately after the news had been brought to her, bringing her group of hunters, until Isabel had come to her one night with a most curious observation.

"Come look at this Livy," her sister had entreated.

Isabel laid a map of the States before them, red dots littering the surface to indicate roughly the previous and current locations of the demons that served Azazel. Their groupings were scattered sporadically across the map, all except for one lot that was situated in a perfect circle around Chicago. Both sisters were tempted to write this off as unimportant, but every other populace of demons here and there had no definite shape or pattern; and of course something deep down in their guts couldn't let this detail go. She ordered her people in America to see what lay in the middle of this circle of demons; both Constantines were surprised as to what they found.

Lavinia and Isabel were expecting them to be guarding some sort of ancient relic with unknown power, or at least another demon with the rank and authority that Azazel had, but instead found two men in their twenties that were frequenting the bars of the city. A report came their way that informed the sisters that these two gentlemen were in fact brothers, had no home base, with the exception of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, and were hunters.

It was the fact that they were hunters that peaked Lavinia's curiosity most of all; she ordered her people that had sent the report to watch over these Winchesters for the duration of a week to see if the demons would close in on them and take them out.

By the week's end, the demons that made up the circle, whoever they may be (as it was also discovered that they had strong magic blocking the Constantine's hunters' methods of tracking them), had seemingly not moved an inch from their positions, wherever those were. Isabel pushed the family's best sorcerers to counter the blocks used by the demons to gain specific positions, but to no avail; whomever Azazel had to control the amount of magic it took to leave them half-blind must have been exceptionally powerful, not to mention he would no doubt use the demons that had been sorcerers in their human lives to his advantage as well.

Another brief report was given that the Winchesters were on the move; she ordered the inside of their vehicle to be bugged to have the answer as to where.

Their new destination was to a small farmhouse in Texas, and as soon as they were there, demons had appeared around them in that perfect circle, their positions once again coming through without giving away any specific place or landmark. The third time the Winchesters moved on it was to Wisconsin, and the circle was laid around them there as in their last two destinations.

And still this ring of demons did nothing to disturb these brothers.

If demons lurked within the circle, this too was unknown, as the magic encasing the ring also extended within it somewhat. It was then Lavinia gave the order to have a more extensive report made on both brothers. She ordered the surveillance in America to delve into their backgrounds: who were their parents and were they hunters like their sons? Who were their closest allies, and where could they be found? What was it about them that had Azazel surrounding them and not killing them?

Records of who the Winchester family was came back practically in shambles.

Most documents as to who they were, what schools they had attended, with the exception of them finding out that Samuel Winchester attended Stanford University, and, oddly, of who their mother was and her family were destroyed. This was not surprising, as many American hunters they had investigated for a multitude of various other reasons had to take cover from the law in their country. The only evidence that the Winchesters even existed were with their father, the recently deceased John Winchester. He had been a former Marine turned mechanic with no hunting experience to speak of in his childhood, and married a woman named Mary in Lawrence, Kansas, later having two sons with her.

The moment she eyed the birth year of the younger Winchester brother, it all snapped to place in her head.

1983. The last year Azazel was in America before disappearing entirely, only to reappear in 2006.

Lavinia had every record in the whole of Lawrence unearthed and looked at for mention of any house fires in the area. There was only one: the home of John Winchester and his family. Their mother's body was nothing but blackened charcoal when found and retrieved.

Samuel Winchester was one of them.

One of Azazel's special children.

And so Lavinia had other known documented 'special' children tracked down only to discover that none except Samuel were chaperoned by a ring of demons. Not children in America. Not children in the whole of Europe. Not even Isabel. Samuel alone had demons surrounding him constantly. But why? _Why?_

Lavinia felt that the answer to that question would lead her to Azazel, and so she formed a plan.

Instead of bringing her hunters with her, only Isabel and herself would travel to the States to hunt the demon leader. Along the way they would enlist the help of the Winchesters, hopefully having them employed in the Constantine Empire so that she could wedge her way between them and Azazel. The yellow-eyed tyrant no doubt already knew that Lavinia had been snooping around the States, and yet he still would not have himself or his demons vacate the country.

It then became apparent that whatever he was planning, Samuel Winchester must be a vital part of it. Yes, she would go to America and find out what it was about this boy that made Azazel put _himself_ at risk, for he had never done so before. She would park herself close to these Winchesters, and so when he chose to show his face, she would be there waiting for her chance to strike.

Lavinia could now see the great Horse Chestnut that graced Burr House's large lawn. The house itself was now clearly visible, all the lights on the first floor were on, and the smell of something sweet wafted from there to Lavinia.

Lavinia eyed the Horse Chestnut warily as she passed it by, but then allowed a soft smile to grace her face as the smell of whatever pastry Isabel was cooking became more noticeable. The smile left just as quickly as it came however, as Lavinia's main worries about their trip really had nothing to do with how they were going to convince the Winchesters to help them, nor about how they were going to kill Azazel in the first place, but just in the fact that her sister had agreed to accompany her on this insane mission.

She figured she would try to talk Isabel out of coming with her one last time before the deed was done.

Lavinia slowed her step before reaching the front door, caught between not wanting to go inside just yet, but feeling her irritation increase as the temperature decreased. She pushed forward though, letting out a sound of appreciation as the warmth of the house enveloped her and her cold singed skin. Lavinia had little time to relax, however, as not even a full minute had passed when Isabel came bounding out of the kitchen with swift urgency, a fork in one hand that held up a morsel of something sticky, the other hand cupping underneath the fork in case the food decided to fall off.

"Come, come, give us a bite and see how it tastes."

"I had thought that you had a strict policy of no desert items before the main course."

"This is merely a taste test, now take it before it decides to plummet into my hand or the rug."

"I've had a taste test one too many this week; is this a piece of blueberry pie again? This is the 40th one you've made in a fortnight," teased Livy. Izzi pouted a bit at her sister's teasing; this was serious business for goodness sakes! "No. It is the 11th pie I've baked in a fortnight. Now taste it before it falls to the floor." Lavinia allowed her sister to place the bite-sized portion into her mouth. "It tastes perfect, just as everything else you cook."

"Yes, but does it taste any better than the other ten? Which one was your favorite?"

"It was pie number 8, you already know that. It's time you stop trying to surpass that one's recipe as I think Henry and his mother are sick of receiving leftovers. What is the goal of creating a perfect pie anyway? Hoping to bribe the Winchesters into helping us with your piles of baked goods?", Lavinia asked with a coat of laughter to her voice.

"Don't tease me Livy! And Henry and his mother love my cooking! Come and sit down, your dinner is almost ready."

Lavinia entered the cozy kitchen, the sweet, warm smells now overpowering; before she could even drag out a chair to sit in she had a steaming cup of tea handed to her and a belated greeting kiss on the cheek from Isabel.

The tension in her shoulders relaxed automatically at her sister's loving gestures, but then knotted up again at the thought of their mission to the U.S. looming so near. "I can feel you worrying from over here you know," announced Izzi as she was patting out the grease from a slab of salmon she had in a frying pan previously.

"Izzi…."

"I'm coming with you, I have already decided."

Well... so much for trying to convince her otherwise.

Isabel peered over her shoulder, observing the worry that had Lavinia's jaw locked up in a scowl. She ceased her attentiveness in preparing dinner to walk over to her elder sibling who wasn't looking at her. Isabel gently picked up one of Lavinia's calloused, pale hands and chafed it between both her own.

"You know that I am more than capable of doing this," she reminded Lavinia softly.

"I know," came the simple reply.

Isabel moved in closer to drop a kiss on her sister's stony forehead. When she moved away a little she could see that Lavinia's face had softened, dramatically almost, but the hardness still resided in her emerald eyes. _Are you certain?_, they seemed to say. The look in Isabel's sapphire gaze held the answer: _Always. My place will always be at your side._

Isabel dropped her sister's hand and turned away before she could catch Livy's look of simultaneous relief and disappointment. "As you wish," Lavinia murmured in her hollow way, if not a bit sorrowfully.

* * *

><p><em>The Lawn of Burr House<em>

The hour was ungodly. Yet so was Lavinia's mood.

And so she made her way from the house and its sleeping inhabitants to the great Horse Chestnut tree out on the lawn. The moon was but a sliver in the sky, and so there was little light to find one's way, but the tree in question was the largest out of all of them on the property, and so all Lavinia had to do was look for the largest black mass before her.

She took her time making her way to the tree, her thoughts this time plagued with memories.

She could remember her father's desperate command for her to run; a jolt of adrenaline shot through her long legs for a moment when remembering her just as desperate fleeing from the house when it was being consumed by flames. Her arms felt empty, as though a bundle should be placed within them, the night air filled only with silence, but somehow echoing the cries of a little girl that would grow up never knowing her parents. Lavinia was now within a few long strides of the tree.

She remembered how she had darted within the shelter of the Chestnut's branches and leaves, and how she had pleaded with her baby sister to be quiet with no luck.

"How did we survive that night?," Lavinia thought to herself as she reached out a hand to touch the leaves of the behemoth.

The words of her mother came unbidden into her mind: "Pray Livy." The hunter closed her eyes, trying to remember what she had prayed all those years ago when hiding underneath these very branches, but could not recall the exact words. "What would I pray for mother? I am not young, innocent, or sincere. Not anymore." She could hear her mother's voice respond in a very calm, Isabel like fashion: "He'll hear anyway."

Lavinia closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly in respect, but no prayers entered her voice nor mind. Her eyes squeezed shut tighter in stress. The only thing that drifted into her consciousness, curiously, was the photograph of Dean Winchester that was kept in a file in her desk.

She remembered being stunned when she first looked at it. "Who is that man? _Who?_," she had thought when examining every inch of the photograph.

She knew she had seen him somewhere before, but…._where? When?_ Whether it be a memory or a dream, Lavinia remembered, sometimes in quiet moments like this, or in the early mornings when she was between the sleeping and waking worlds, looking up through a haze of pain only to see Dean Winchester's face.

Or at least someone who looked very much like him, she wasn't sure.

She did not dwell on these thoughts for long, and so willed herself to forget them by the time she turned back to the house. That night she dreamt however; dreamt of Dean Winchester with his shoulders quaking.

Dreamt of him looking upon her broken body with the eyes of a broken heart.

Dreamt of him mourning deeply for her. She could hear the faint sound of her voice, weak and pathetic, trickling into the dream.

_Who is that man?_

* * *

><p><em>Singer's Salvage, Lawrence County, South Dakota<em>

For the millionth time in the last few weeks that Sam and Dean had been staying with him, Bobby Singer was audience to another valiant, yet already striking-out-before-he-even-started attempt by the younger Winchester to get the older man to crack and talk about what happened with their dad.

Bobby's eyes trained on Dean, who was underneath his worse for wear 'baby', plunking and screwing away while telling Sam without looking at him that he was 'fine.' That had to be the biggest load of horse shit he ever heard if anything.

God, what he would give just to have those boys just….he turned away from the sight of Sam handling the thousandth time he'd received the brush off from his brother when he heard his house phone ring. No one ever called the house phone unless there was an emergency, or if it was a close friend.

Or unless you were that mystery caller from two days ago.

A twinge of warning prickled at Bobby's back as the phone continued to ring; how had that woman known there was a demon snooping around his yard?

Bobby picked up the receiver with a cautious hand. "Hello?"

"How many goddamned, fucking rings do I have to sit through before you pick up the motherfucking phone, huh? I could be fucking dying for all you know, and you be there taking your sweet ass time!"

"Since you ain't screaming and crying into this phone like a five-year old girl, I'll go out on a limb and assume you're not dying Rufus. What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want those coordinates you promised me three days ago! The kid who asked for them has been riding my ass since yesterday."

"Untwist those panties of yours Roseanne; I'll send you the coordinates by tonight, so quit you're bellyaching." Bobby tried to sound annoyed, but his voice ended only in an exhausted wheeze. Even Rufus noticed. "You okay Bobby? You still watching over those Winchester boys?"

"Yeah. Also got a strange phone call two days ago; a woman with a thick accent. British from the sound of it. She told me there was a demon in the yard, then hung up."

"And was there a demon in the yard?," Rufus asked intrigued. "Yep. Had the boys and myself tie him down and interrogate him before the exorcism. Did the usual spit'in and snarling routine, but was tight-lipped about why he was here in the first place." Rufus went unusually silent on the other end for a minute.

"Rufus?"

"Woman with a heavy British accent you say? Friend of Talbot*?"

"If she is, she didn't say so. The lady stayed on the line only long enough to tell me about the demon, and that was it." Rufus went silent for the second time. Two pauses in a row from Rufus Turner? Bobby just had to ask. "Something wrong Rufus?"

"You haven't noticed it, have you?"

"Noticed what?"

"You know how more demons have been filing in since a couple months back?"

"Yeah."

"Well they ain't the only ones who've been coming in. I didn't notice it at first either, but ever since the demons have been showing up, more hunters, or at least I suspect they're hunters, have been popping up here and there."

"Yeah, and…." Of course there were hunters all over the U.S., but Bobby wasn't sure if Rufus meant more hunters from other areas were amassing, or more devastated sons of bitches that had had their families scarred in some way by the supernatural were taking up to be hunters.

"And what I mean is foreigners. Some contacts I have mentioned running into some hunters that sounded English and French, but mostly English. Like that mystery lady of yours."

"Has anyone talked to these people? Anyone know why they're here or what they want?"

"Some hunters that were sent my way for some help said they were going to see what the deal was with them; they thought they were being watched by a group in the same town, but once they decided on that, the sons of bitches couldn't be found anywhere. Like they just up and vanished."

"You think these overseas hunters have something to do with my mystery caller?"

"Don't know. But you've heard the rumors out there about certain families in Europe that devote everything to hunting. Some real heavy hitters supposedly. Money. Power. Dynasties. The Works. If these Euro-hunters are coming to America, then whatever the demons are doing must be nasty enough to grab their attention."

Bobby remembered dealing with a couple hunters in the past that were from Europe: they never talked about themselves and gave the distinct impression that they would rather be somewhere else. He had no doubt that families like the one Rufus mentioned existed, as monsters and the like practically littered history, and so there would be generations of people living to protect the rest of everyone.

Now he was left wondering why they would care about what was going on in America, and if his mystery caller was somehow tied in to these tight-lipped-about-their-existence hunting organizations, why would she care if one demon happened to be in his yard?

"I'll be on the look-out for these guys now that you mentioned them; I'll get you those coordinates you asked for."

"You ever think about checking to see if you're house is bugged Bobby?" The abrupt question slowed his step for a minute. "Think about it. This person knew about you're intruder. She call you on the house phone?"

"Yeah." Bobby couldn't believe he didn't think about the possibility of his house and yard being under _surveillance_, but it made sense.

He heard Rufus chuckling on the other end of the receiver, like he could see his good-God-how-could-I-have-been-such-a-idjit expression plastered across his rough hewn face. "Looks like old age is catching up to you Singer. Thank me after you've found the cameras and shit stuffed into that cardboard box you call a house by your stalker."

"Shut it Turner."

"Did she have a sexy voice Bobby?"

"I said shut it."

"Cause you know if she got a sexy voice, you just may have an establi…" Bobby hung up on him before he could finish that sentence; he'd give him his damn coordinates later.

* * *

><p><em>1954<em>

Annael feels Michael's revelation seep down from heaven into her grace.

Her orders are clear, and as soon as they enter her being, the whole of her garrison know as well. They wing their way to Sudbury all in one moment, the chorus of demonic screams of fear sounding off as they line both sides of Burr House's lawn.

The angels were impassive as the demons tried to make their escape before exploding from exposure to such an excess of divinity. Annael feels for the presence of Azazel, but he is already, wisely, gone from this region of the world entirely. She can only feel the burning agony of the couple in the house. Death would grant them mercy soon.

A prayer weaves its way into her grace, a prayer that two little girls would be safe. She could see the flickering remnants of Julius Constantine's memories, all of them encased and highlighted by his fierce love for one woman and the two little ones that hovered close to her skirts. Annael felt something hollow out in her, like a bottomless pit had taken up residence in her mind when thinking of the fallen hunter and his innocent wife. She was not certain of the name this emotion had.

"Annael," spoke one of her brethren, "must we….."

"Michael's orders were clear; we must ensure the safety of both children."

The angel addressed his superior no longer, but there was a lingering waft of disbelief and disgust that hung amongst the garrison, not at Annael, but at Michael's orders.

Or more specifically, their obligation to protect these _abominations_.

A flicker of anger sparked in Annael as she felt her garrison's collective distaste grow for these two helpless humans. "Helpless mortals or not Annael, they are essentially forbidden creatures. They are a blight to both man and seraphim. Why does Michael have us protect them?"

"Michael has given me no explanation. He bids only that we see to their safety and that is all."

"Yes, but…"

"Shall I inform him of this garrison's difficulties in obeying their superiors?" No one in the garrison spoke against or questioned Annael again, as they feared the wrath of their archangel brother. The 'abominations' in question were now on the lawn itself, the elder girl struggling to hold up her sister whilst running away in terror.

Annael could see plainly what the other angels here were disgusted by: in both girls she could see the luminous flow of grace in their blood.

Angelic grace.

But it was such a small amount that neither girl could even begin to know the power of the beings that protected them without their knowledge, nor of the power had by the Nephilim they were descended from.

The Constantine Family referred to the angelic blood that coursed through a handful of their members as 'the Blood', and though human blood in several more generations would delude any trace of grace in their line, Annael could see how it would affect the lives of the girls who were now hiding amongst the trees.

The angel now felt the words of another prayer fill her mind. It came from Julius's elder daughter, memories clinging to the edges of her pleas of her mother teaching her how to pray after bedtime stories were told. The words ran together in an unintelligible mass, but the angel knew what she was asking her Father for. That she and her sister would be safe. That their parents would find them. Annael now knew what emotion it was that she experienced earlier, and now felt it again as the frightened, little voice entreated God to answer her prayers.

It was pity.

* * *

><p><em>1986<em>

Maurice found Isabel having her breakfast on the steps that led up to the mausoleum. More like picking at her breakfast.

He strode up to the small woman, but she gave no effort in greeting him or even acknowledging that he was there. She merely looked on straight ahead of her while stirring cold tea in her mug.

Maurice cast a mournful gaze over his young mistress's face and body. She had lost so much weight in the last few months that her shoulders still looked bony even with a shawl covering them.

And her figure before her sister's death was already slender and bird-like.

Her fingers were so thin that the rings adorning them seemed loose, threatening to slide right off. Her hair had lost its lustrous sheen, her eyes sunken into their sockets. "God help her," Maurice pleaded inwardly. He turned to leave his emaciated mistress, as it seemed she would not address him for the world, but then she called out to him. "Maurice." He turned back to face her.

"Yes madam?"

"Call Edgar and tell him I would like him down here by the afternoon. I should like an 'L' engraved beneath the two A's here." Maurice's eyes shifted over to the doors of the tomb looming over them. "Just an 'L', Isabel?"

"Yes Maurice. Just an 'L'."

* * *

><p>*Crocotta: creatures that have the ability to mimic a person's voice, feed on human souls, and enjoy living in filth.<p>

*Talbot: Bela Talbot; Season 3.


End file.
